No Sleep
by amythis
Summary: Tony clarifies what he meant by "until and unless" in Jamaica, but Angela has other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

"I guess I should clarify what I meant by 'until and unless' in Jamaica."

I've just plucked up the courage to ask Tony, "Now that we're engaged, would you like to go upstairs?" We came so close the first night after we confessed our love to each other, but a series of disasters, including my Jag in the lake, made us pull back. So for weeks we've been affectionate, although not hot and heavy. But now that we've agreed, after another series of disasters, to get married, I think it's finally time to take the big step. After all, we're not teenagers. And we've known each other for seven years. And, well, it's not as if either of us has been celibate since the ends of our marriages.

But, yes, over those seven years we've both worried over what impact sex would have on our vital but delicate friendship. It's different now though, isn't it? I mean, we've definitely admitted we're not just friends.

"You said you didn't think we should until we're married. And then you changed that to unless. And, Tony, I know you're old-fashioned in some ways, but it's not like it would be be a cheap fling. It would be making love, not just sex." I blush but I have to be able to talk about it if I'm ready to do it.

"Um, yeah, that's what I want to explain."

"Explain?" Now I'm baffled. I can't imagine what he means.

"Sit down."

So I do. And he settles next to me on the couch, taking my hand. "Angela, I really love you."

"I love you, Tony."

"I know. But even so I don't think we can sleep together. Not until we're married."  
I feel like crying, with frustration and rejection. Why does he have to have such misplaced scruples about me, especially after all those other women? I don't want to be put on a pedestal. Despite what Mother thinks, I'm not a cold fish, and I have all this stifled passion that I want to let out with the man I love. "Why not?" I try not to whine.

"Because it's something really special to me, something I think belongs only in a marriage."

I blink. "But what about Betty Boop? And Trish? And—" Even now, I can't easily say Kathleen's name. "All those other women."

"Oh, I just had sex with them. I didn't sleep with them."  
"Tony," I say slowly, "I don't understand. Are you talking about some specific sexual practice or position that you think only married people can do?"

He shakes his head. "When I say 'sleep with,' I mean lying in bed asleep, with them."

Now I shake my head. I can't take this in. "You've never done that with anyone but Marie?"

"Well, you know with women, it's—Well, I mean, you know I've shared beds with family and friends, guy friends, you know, innocently. But not with women I was attracted to."

"You slept with me! You slept with me three times!"

"No, technically only once, and that doesn't count because I didn't know it was you."

"The time you thought it was Sam after her nightmare?"

"Yeah. And of course I didn't get any sleep with you on the train. Remember? I laid awake all night, thinking about your personal scent?"

"Well, yes, but wait a minute! The motel near Kissing Rock. We shared a bed." _And a set of pajamas,_ I add silently.

"Yeah, and I stayed awake the whole night."

"You faked being asleep?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't want you to know that I couldn't sleep lying next to you. And, uh, I was afraid I might touch you in my sleep."

"Oh." I blush again.

"And the times I stayed at the Fairfield Inn. With Trish, I made sure I slept on the couch back home that night. And with Tanya, well, I faked it then, too."

I can't help it, I say, "Were you listening to my room all night, with your ear to the glass?"

"No, not all night. Just for a few minutes."

"Oh. Then you might know I slept with him. In both senses."  
"Yeah, I kind of figured you did. That's how I knew it was serious with you two, those overnight trips. And two other times I got really jealous, well, part of it was that I thought you were going to spend a night or more with those men."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, first Jack."  
"Wait, Jack my VP?"

"Yeah, when you two were at the Plaza. Um, I thought you were sharing a room."

"He was with his fiancée."

"Yeah, I found that out when I showed up. And the other time was when you almost went to Greece with Christopher."

"So you weren't just worried about me having sex with other men?"

"Well, that bugged me, too, but less."

Some things fall into place from over the years, like how he insisted on sleeping on the couch and then the floor at two of his baseball reunions. Obviously, we could've had sex when we were sharing a room, no matter where he slept. And in Jamaica, and other times, he never actually said it was about sex. I just assumed. " 'Yes, Tony has his own room,' " I murmur, though he said it very indignantly to the the woman from the IRS.

"Yeah." And then he brings up something he said the first night we knew each other. " 'You'd never catch me doing something dumb like sleeping with my employer!' "

"So you just meant 'sleeping,' even back then?"

"I meant both."

"Oh." It's like our whole relationship, these past seven years looks different to me now. And what about all those other women? Was Marie really the only one he's fallen asleep next to? I hesitate but I have to know. "Did you sleep with Kath—Kathleen that first night?"

A look of shame distorts his handsome, olive-skinned face, the same look I saw the morning after his all-nighter, although I didn't want to believe it. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I did. I didn't mean to. But I was so tired. Not just from, well, anyway, I was worn out from studying, too. And I told myself I'd just shut my eyes for a minute and then look at slides while she slept, or go read the textbook in the bathroom. But the next thing I knew, I woke up and she was snuggled up against me."

I feel like I've been re-betrayed, as if this is somehow worse than him moving inside her as she clung to him, the two of them locked in passionate embrace, their bodies intertwined.

Not looking at me, he quietly continues, "It wasn't like with Marie, where there was that trust and security and, and love. Kathleen was an acquaintance. But I wondered if it meant something that I'd fallen asleep with her. Maybe I was supposed to pursue this. I was very confused."

"Tony," I manage to speak again, "what is it about literally sleeping with someone that's so meaningful to you?"

"I don't know. I guess I feel vulnerable but also safe. And it's almost like you're dreaming together. With Marie, this was a woman who'd be the last person I'd see each night, and the first person I'd see each morning. Sometimes we'd fall asleep after making love, or other times it'd be the first thing we'd do in the morning, after kissing each other more awake. If we'd accidentally touched in the night, that would've been fine. I do want that intimacy with you, but I want to wait till you're my wife. Till we've made that commitment."

I think about what he's said. It's not completely crazy. I know that when I slept with Michael when I was intending to divorce him, it felt good to have him back in my bed, like when we were married. If we had had sex and then he'd gone back to his hotel, it wouldn't have been the same. And I remember Tony's shocked expression the next morning, when Michael was the one to answer Tony's "rise and shine."

Still, it is an unusual distinction to make. And is it in fact the distinction I think he's making? I need to clarify this further. "So how do you feel about making love to me before we're married?"

"I would love to make love to you. Tonight." And then he gives me a searing kiss that goes right down to my toes.

When we part, both panting a little, I say, "Well, I suppose if I can only sleep with you literally or figuratively, then I'd rather choose figuratively." It was lovely when I slept beside him, but I realize more than ever that it didn't give him the same peaceful, contented feeling.

"I want both. But not yet."  
"OK," I say softly.

"Come on, let's go upstairs."

We stand up, still holding hands. I think of other times we've gone upstairs together, having to part and say goodnight in the hallway. Tonight, well, I suppose we'll say goodnight after sex, although I hope he doesn't dash right out after, or kick me out.

"Whose room?"

"Yours," he says, as if he's thought about this many times. Well, so have I, but I've pictured it happening all over the house, in a shameless way that would embarrass even Mother. "Your bed is bigger. And if it's in there, then I'll have to leave. If we do it in my bed, I'll want to curl up and go to sleep right after."

I don't see why he wouldn't want to in my bed, other than it'd be less familiar to him. But it doesn't matter. The important thing is that Tony and I will make love. Tonight. At last!


	2. Chapter 2

After waiting so long, I'm finally in Angela's bedroom, undressing her! And, yes, I could've tried to make this moment happen weeks, or even years, ago, but I'm glad we waited till we're engaged. We both want this and we're both ready.

It is going to be tricky to not want to spend the whole night with her. But Jonathan's curfew is at 11, so we've got four hours till he returns. Enough for now. By 11, I should be in my own bed, sleeping soundly. I may find it hard to tear myself away from her, but I have a lot of willpower and I can do it. And we will be married after I graduate in a few months, so this isn't a permanent situation.

Her skin is so soft and pink, lovely. When we first met, and for two or three years after that, she was very shy about showing her body. (I don't count the brief encounter in the bathroom, since that was unintentional, for both of us.) I'd catch glimpses here and there, especially of her back. And then gradually she got more confident, more relaxed. Her hemlines rose. She started showing her shoulders, even cleavage occasionally. Still very tasteful, never with any of Mona's boldness. (Well, except in Jamaica, but I only found out about the topless swimming after the fact.) She remained a lady, but that made her all the more tantalizing.

I kiss her and caress her as I take off each item of clothing, murmuring little compliments. Now she's down to a lacy pink bra and panties. My eyes can't get enough of her. I want to see her full nudity, but she gently moves my hands away and says, "My turn."

I swallow. "OK."

During my wild past, I had some women practically tear my clothes off, so hungry, so eager for me. But, although Angela's eyes and smile show she desires me, she undresses me slowly, somehow both teasing and shy. We've both waited a long time, but neither of us is in a hurry. We're both savoring this.

Eventually, she has me down to just my jockeys. She looks at the obvious bulge with both approval and demureness. Then I kiss her sweet mouth. We lay next to each other, our whole bodies touching, just our underwear separating us. Our hands stroke each other's hair and then back and then butt. "So firm," I murmur.

She cups each cheek in a hand and says, "Still a perfect 10."

I laugh. "Thank you. Yours is off the charts."

She nuzzles my neck and says, "Thank you."

I think of how she's known for about seven years that I like my neck nuzzled, since the Machismo commercial. And when we were parked in her Jag by the lake (before it sank), she nuzzled me, and I felt like a wine bottle ready to be uncorked. But the timing still wasn't right. I think it is tonight. There shouldn't be any interruptions. Sam is living in the dorms and Mona has a date of her own. Obviously, I hope Jonathan's date works out and he doesn't come home early. It'd be embarrassing if he caught me sneaking out of his mom's room, although less than if it was in the morning.

I move one hand back up to her back and tease the clasp of her bra. I remember snapping the straps one time after we'd had a serious conversation about parenting. I wanted to lighten the mood, but I also wanted to flirt with her, tease her, on that level we were at then. She chased after me and I think we would've at least kissed, if Jonathan hadn't just gone up to his room.

"Please, Tony," Angela whispers.

I assume she means she wants me to undo her bra, and I'm happy to oblige. I undo the hooks and she sighs. Then she sits up a little and I help her slip out of her bra. I gaze up at her high, firm breasts and stroke them. Then I move so that I can kiss them, softly, reverently at first, and then more hungrily.

"Oh, Tony!" she sighs.

I keep going, loving how she calls my name, sweetly and then more passionately. I remember when she called it out in her sleep. I was amused and flattered the first night, but embarrassed the second night, on her behalf as well as mine, with the whole family listening. I wonder how often she's dreamed of me. I've definitely dreamed of her over the years. I wonder what it'd be like to be in the same bed with her when we're dreaming of each other. But, no, I can't, not yet. That's too intimate.

Not that this isn't intimate of course. I tease the elastic of her panties and ask, "Can I see you? All of you?"

She blushes but manages to say, "Tony, you've seen that before."

"Yeah, but I have a lousy memory." And it was so quick, and it's not like I saw between her legs, just the front of her.

"Then I guess I should refresh it."

I grin and start to tug on the elastic, but she gently moves my hand away. I guess she wants to do this herself. She eases the panties down very slowly. It drives me crazy! But in a good way.

At last she's exposed to me. More beautiful even than I imagined. "Wow!" is all I can think to say.

"Thank you," she says. "Can I see you?"  
"Not quite yet. I need to show my appreciation more." I start caressing her between the legs, lightly and carefully at first. I need to see what she likes, and part of me can't believe I'm touching her like this. Even though she's very sexy, I thought of her as unattainable for so long that it's hard to accept that I can touch her like this.

"Oh, Tony, so good!" she moans. And then sometimes just one or two of those words. I get gradually bolder, and she completely responds. I keep at it, sometimes looking between her legs and sometimes watching her face, especially those dark, deep eyes.

After she reaches orgasm, she kisses me and says, "Now, Tony?"

"Yeah. Now's a good time. You want to take them off or should I?"

"You do it. This time."

I grin. There will definitely have to be a next time. Many next times.

I could be a tease like she was but I want these jockeys off now. So I strip them off and she gasps. Then she reaches for me, wrapping one hand around. Her hands are delicate but strong. Her fingers, like her toes that night we shared a leaky motel room, are very warm, but this time she's not touching my ankles.

"That feels good," I murmur.

"Tony, could you wear a condom? At least tonight. I've been celibate for over four years, and I didn't know if you'd want to do anything before we got married, so I'm not currently on any birth control."

"Yeah, that's fine." Wow, four years! Since Geoffrey I guess. I wondered sometimes, but I guess it didn't get as serious with any of the later boyfriends as it did with him, not even Andy. I'm glad but it does make this even a bigger deal than it would be otherwise.

I obviously haven't been celibate that long, although my Brooklyn buddies are still disappointed that I'm not the Tony Micelli I used to be. Kathleen and Frankie aside, I've mostly been like Angela's husband for years, except in one vital category. Will it feel like a complete marriage after tonight? Or do I still need the church ceremony to make it real for me?

As she gets out a box of condoms, I ask, "Um, if you've been celibate, what are you doing with those?"

She rolls her eyes. "Mother. As soon as she and I had our first private talk after you told the family about you and me being in love, she gave me these. I told her you'd probably want to wait until and unless we were married, but she said, 'What people plan and what they do are two different things.' "

I blush a little. Yeah, I know that as well as anyone.

I have her put it on me. Then I ask, "What position do you want?"

She blushes a lot. "Maybe me on top, to start out."

"You got it, Boss," I tease.

"Tony, you are definitely off the clock right now."  
"You couldn't afford it anyway."

"Neither could you," she teases. And then she carefully mounts me, one long, luscious leg on either side of me.

I sink up and into her. Even with the condom, I love how this feels. Much as I'd like to feel her directly, I'm sort of glad I've got the condom to dull the sensation a bit. I usually don't have a problem lasting a long time, but tonight, after all this anticipation, I might come as fast as I did my very first time. (Tanya forgave me, on the next date.)

Angela gently rocks on me and I wait till she gets a rhythm going before I caress her wavy blonde hair, her breasts, her butt. And I start moving with her, adapting to her rhythm. She comes again, and then lies flat on me, hugging me. I keep stroking, till she comes again. I love how it feels to be surrounded by that.

"Do you want to finish on top?" she asks.

"Finish? Baby, I'm just getting started."

She laughs as if I'm kidding. But I roll her over and spend the next hour showing her that I'm not.


	3. Chapter 3

"Goodnight, Tony," I say seductively. Only, I'm not trying to seduce him into sex (since we've just had two lovely hours of foreplay, sex, midplay, more sex, and afterplay). I'm trying, despite our agreement, to get him to literally sleep with me. It doesn't feel right for him to just up and leave. Not that it's a "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" situation. I mean, he did make sure I was satisfied, and he was more affectionate than ever afterwards. But he is trying to pry himself away now, and I find I don't want him to. I want to fall asleep next to him, and wake up with him in the morning.

"Uh, goodnight, Angela." He's standing in the doorway, holding his socks and shoes, having put the rest of his clothes back on. I'm sitting up naked, with not even a sheet to cover me. "Uh, sweet dreams."

"You, too." I let my voice get extra husky.

"Well, goodbye." And then he just leaves, quickly, shutting the door behind him.

I feel insulted, although maybe he's protecting himself. Did I come on too strong? Or, on the other hand, should I have just held on to him while he was still naked and in bed, and fallen asleep? I think of when I first pulled him into my bed. I don't remember it clearly, since I was incredibly drunk that night, but as he's told me, with chuckles and blushes on both our parts, that after our kiss in the kitchen for my thirty-mumbleth birthday, he carried me upstairs and set me on my bed. Then I grabbed him and pulled him into bed, but promptly fell asleep. Yes, he has quite a soporific effect on me, despite how exciting I find him, and not just sexually.

I think my body (even back then) knew and still knows that he's the right man for me, even as my heart and especially my mind took a long time to sort things out. It's like if I'm lying down next to him, I immediately relax and go into a peaceful slumber. But, yes, I realize that his biological reactions aren't not the same.

And now, despite my exhaustion and contentment, I don't know if I can get any sleep. Yes, for over seven years I've had to sleep down the hall from that handsome, muscular, warm, fun, sexy man. But it was different before we, well, before we did all we did tonight. It used to be I would just imagine (and sometimes dream) of what it'd be like to be with him. And now I know!

Sigh. But maybe he's right. Jonathan will be coming home in the next couple hours. (I know I should be a good mother and go downstairs and wait up for him, but I just can't tonight. I feel like he'd take one look at me and know what happened with Tony.) If Tony "slept over," I'd want to fool around in the morning. It'd be just too tempting. I've had a hard enough time resisting him, especially since we became involved, and having him lying next to me, naked and probably hard, well, I probably wouldn't be able to keep my hands (or anything) else off his body.

As it is, I'm sure Mother will guess the next time she sees me and Tony together, or even just me. Well, all right, she was strangely incurious the night of the carnival. I expected the third degree when Tony and I finally emerged from the Tunnel of Love after closing time and found the family (and Fred) over by the shooting gallery. But the woman practically fainted the next night, when Tony told them (not Fred) that he and I are in love. And, despite the fact that Tony and I have kissed and snuggled in front of her, she persists in treating me like the Ice Princess she's seen me as since I was a teenager. Maybe she can't accept the fact that I like sex, or even that I've had it (although much, much less than her of course). So maybe she'll be blind to the consummation with Tony. (Yes, she gave me the condoms, but I still think she'd be surprised to find that they're being put to use.)

I suppose with Jonathan, he wouldn't want to know even if he knew. I mean, I am his mother and Tony is like his father. Even faced with incontrovertible evidence, like Tony sneaking out of my room some night (or, if I'm lucky, some morning), he'd probably just pretend that nothing's going on. He was still a little boy when I was calling Tony's name in my sleep, an innocent eleven-year-old, so he asked questions then, but he wouldn't at fifteen.

As for Sam, well, I'm not sure how she'll react. She's a romantic, and she's very happy for me and Tony. But I doubt she wants to know how far it's gone physically. She knows her father isn't a monk, but she wouldn't want to hear about this change in the relationship. And luckily, she lives in the dorms, so it's unlikely she would catch Tony in my bedroom. (Mother, on the other hand, is perfectly capable of knocking in the middle of the night. And we're not going to put a hanger on the door, like Tony's elderly friend Cappy suggested on the train.)

I don't know if it's twisted of me or not but I try to see if I can smell Tony's scent on the sheets or pillowcases. Maybe a trace of his cologne but not his natural scent. I wonder if that was another reason he didn't want to have sex in his bedroom. If he was aware of my natural scent on the train, it would be even more distracting in his own bed after I left (if I left). In contrast, I find the way he smells, especially when it's mixed with the scents of his cooking, both comforting and arousing.

Perhaps if I close my eyes, I can pretend he's still lying next to me. I turn out the light to make it easier. But I find that I want to put my toes on his feet, as I did in the leaky motel six years ago. And intertwine our bodies from the feet up.

I would pretend that we haven't had sex and we're still back to where we were, but every inch of my body tells me otherwise. I have truly known Tony's touch now (including inside me!), and I can't unknow it.

I now know what it's like to feel his weight on me, pressing against me, as I press back. I know what it's like to look down on him, seeing those warm eyes and radiant smile, as well as his perfectly carved torso and arms. And I now know what his second tattoo is!

I know what it's like to stroke his hair, on his chest and stomach as well as along his scalp. And that's not even counting the most intimate knowledge I have of his body.

This is ridiculous. I of course don't want Tony to do anything he's not comfortable with, but it's not like this is a kinky practice. Sharing a bed at night is perfectly normal, and I don't see what the problem would be if it made us even closer emotionally.

I'm going to talk to him. I put on my robe and slippers, just in case I have to sneak out of Tony's room in the morning.

But when I reach my door, I hear Jonathan out in the hallway, saying, "Hey, Tony."  
"Hey, Jonathan. Looks like you made it back in plenty of time for curfew."  
"Well, it is a school night."  
"Yeah."  
"Is Mom still awake?"  
"Uh, I don't know. I think she went to bed, but she might be reading or something."

I decide to speak up. "Sweetheart, is that you?"  
"Yeah, Mom, I'm back."

"Have a good night, Jonathan."

"You, too, Mom." A pause and then I hear Jonathan quietly say, "She's changed. It used to be she'd be waiting up in the living room."

Tony chuckles. "Yeah, well, I think she's finally realizing you're growing up."  
"You weren't waiting up, were you?"

"Me? Nah, I'm gonna go have an early midnight snack. You want anything?"

"No, I had plenty to eat at the movie."  
"OK, see ya in the morning."  
"See ya, Tony."

Is that why Tony is out of his room? Or was he coming back to mine? Well, too late now. I could go join Tony in the kitchen, but I guess I'll let this drop for now and try to get some sleep. Maybe I'll pretend Tony will come back to bed after he returns.


	4. Chapter 4

Like many early mornings, rain or shine, I go jogging. But this time, I make sure that my post-jog shower is cold, because as soon as I'm back upstairs, I think of Angela sleeping, pink and peaceful, in her bedroom. She doesn't usually sleep in the nude (as I know from times I've woken her up, for strange noises and stuff), but maybe she did last night. Even if she did get dressed after I left, I can still vividly remember how she looks naked in bed.

And, yeah, in a different way than I did after our drunken kiss in the kitchen, I kind of hate myself in the morning. Back then, I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship (or my employment) by sleeping with her in any sense. And this time, despite an incredible experience in bed—with her passion matching mine—I left before I could fall asleep lying next to her. I could've woken up with that body, with that woman that I love.

And, yes, I know I must seem crazy to her, although she was very sweet, patient, and understanding with me, like she always is. (Including times when I've done far worse things than leave her to sleep alone.) I sort of seem crazy to myself.

But the truth is, I'm scared. Not of the sleeping part. It's not like she flails wildly or has a deafening snore. Like I said, she sleeps peacefully, at least when I'm there. But I'm scared of what it would do to me, to take that risk before we're married. The truth is, the truth is, I'm afraid of losing her.

I've always been scared of that, even before I was consciously in love with her. I'm not sure how long it took, but it was before the drunken kiss. Maybe it was around the time Michael first came back. She'd gone out with different guys up to that point (although she was technically just separated, not that I knew that yet), and I was happy for her. Rooted her on. Hell, I was pleased to see her steal Robert Andrew Holmby III from Trashy Trish. The jealousy came later.

And then Michael arrived. And this wasn't Jeffrey the sports nut, just out for a good time, or Grant chasing her around the desk and around what I was already (the first night in the house) thinking of as my kitchen table. This was her husband, probably the only guy she'd ever been totally in love with, and he wanted her back. Not only that, he wanted me (and Sam) out of the picture, out of the house.

Well, what was I gonna do? I wasn't the man of the house, no matter how much we pretended. Michael was, or at least he was willing to resume that role. And he fired me. I couldn't fight him for her. Well, I could've, and I probably could've taken him in a physical fight, although he'd have been a worthier opponent than most of the men she dated, especially wimps like Geoffrey or Andy. But she wasn't "mine." I was just the housekeeper. And he was the husband.

Anyway, it wasn't till I left the house, for a great job mind you (a mansion, a sweet old lady, and some cute girls on the staff), that I realized that I felt like I'd lost my home. Yeah, this house, but also Angela. She was already starting to feel like my home. The uptight career lady with the big heart and the spark in her deep dark eyes.

So once Michael hired me back, I raced over as soon as I could. And Angela had missed me, too, and we did our best not to lose each other, one way or another.

But we still could lose each other. And, yeah, I know I lost Marie, despite waiting to sleep with her, in any sense, until our wedding night. But at least she was mine, solidly mine. She couldn't just up and leave. (Yeah, it's her house, but after she found out we all heard her talk in her sleep, she was the one who offered to move out.)

Maybe it doesn't make sense, but if I relax my vigilance, if I sleep next to her before we're married, then I'm going to be vulnerable.

In a way, I couldn't love her more than I already do. We've watched our favorite movies together till we can recite the lines in sync. I've done my best to nourish her beautiful spirit as much as her beautiful body. And she has believed in me even at times no one else, including me, has. We've raised two smart, and smart-alec, wonderful kids together. We've rolled our eyes at Mona's outrageousness together, and seen her through heartbreak (occasionally her own). And now, yeah, Angela and I are dynamite in bed.

So why not sleep with her, really sleep with her? I guess I feel like if I hold back one piece until we're married, then I won't lose her. And, OK, maybe I'm a little shaken up by how dynamite we are in bed together. If I'm sharing her bed (or letting her into mine) one-third of every 24 hours, how am I going to accomplish anything else the other two-thirds?

I turn the faucet to icy cold, trying to wake myself up more, since I didn't get much sleep, even without lying next to her. It's November. No one's going to complain about me using up the cold water.

Afterwards, I grab a towel and my robe. I wish I could knock on Angela's door, but I can't, not even to say,"Rise and shine." Hopefully she got some sleep, even without me. I do knock on Jonathan's door, and he mumbles, "Thanks, Tony." At least he wasn't out late. And, yeah, I'm glad he wasn't home even earlier.

I was going to go to Angela's room, explain, when Jonathan came back two hours before curfew. Maybe it's just as well. I couldn't explain this all to Angela, when I'm still figuring it out myself. Plus, I'd rather not have the conversation when she's nude and in the afterglow, and is giving me the come-hither treatment, with her smoky dark eyes and her huskiest voice. We can discuss it under tamer circumstances, like in the living room, both fully dressed.

I go to my room, get dressed for the day, and then head down to the kitchen. I expect Jonathan to catch on, but I'm being paranoid, like I was the morning after the Tunnel of Love. Even when Angela comes in and gives me a very warm kiss, he hardly reacts. By this point, I think he does his best to tune out our affection. The one I'm really worried about is Mona, but both Angela and Jonathan finish breakfast by the time she comes in.

"Mother, we've got to leave in five minutes!"

"Tony, two Air Jemimas to go," Mona says, taking Angela's chair.

"You got it," I say, glad that they'll all be on their way soon. Then I can have some time to myself, think this through some more.

Jonathan says goodbye to all of us and takes off for school. Then Angela goes in the living room, to get a portfolio.

"Here you go, Mone," I say, giving her the two pancakes in a tupperware container I keep for just such occasions. I even fit some bacon in there. (Eggs would be too messy, and as it is I've had to put the pats of butter and dollop of syrup in their own little containers.)

"Thanks, Tone." She reaches for the containers, and then she looks at me more closely. "Oh my God, you boinked my daughter!"

Now I'm really scared. And not in the way I would be if she were a burly Italian man. But more scared that she'll use this information for her own nefarious ends. At the least, teasing squared or cubed. At most, blackmail.

"Keep your voice down!" I whisper.

"Tony, I think Angela knows. If you're half the man I think you are, she won't ever forget it."

"Mona, what you've got to understand is—"

"So you two **FINALLY** slept together!"

She makes "finally" sound like it's written on a Goodyear blimp. And then I realize I've got my out. "No, Mona, sorry to disappoint you. But I did not sleep with Angela."

She stares at me and then blinks several times. Then she hits her head like it's a television set with bad reception. "You didn't?"

"No, we, uh, we just necked."

"Oh, yawn. God, you two might as well be in junior high. Hell, Sam had better stories when she was in junior high."

"Oh?" I demand.

"About her friends. It wasn't till she met Matt—"

I really don't want to know, although as Sam's father I feel like I should know. Well, she is 19, an adult, even if she doesn't always act like one. No, I don't want to deal with this, especially today.

Angela comes back in. "OK, I've got the portfolio. Mother, are you ready?"

Mona gives a Cheshire Cat grin and says, "All set for an exciting day of work."

"Mother, are you feeling all right?"

"Never better. How are you, Dear?"

"Um, fine. I feel great."  
"Oh."  
"I mean, normal."

"Uh huh."

I want to warn Angela that Mona is suspicious. I'm not entirely sure she bought my "necking" story. And the way she's sizing up Angela, it's like she's looking for more evidence. I don't envy Angela the commute with Mona. Or maybe Mona will wait till they're at the office and call for a mother-daughter conference.

"Goodbye, Tony," Angela says, kissing me warmly again. I try to return it without worrying about Mona watching us. And then they're out the door before I can think of an excuse to call Angela into the other room.

I'd call her car phone while they're on the way to the station, but Mona would be sitting right next to her. Besides, I've got to get ready for my morning class. I'll think this all over some more later.


	5. Chapter 5

One nice thing about nepotism is that I can be distracted at work and know that I'm unlikely to be fired. And it's my daughter's fault that I'm distracted. Well, hers and my future son-in-law's.

Did Tony lie to me? Tony never lies to me! Well, never successfully. And he admitted it when he bedded Kathleen, so why not when he finally bedded Angela? It's not like I was going to be upset! Surprised yes, after all this time, but upset? Definitely, unequivocally no.

He had that look in his eyes, like the morning he was first with Kathleen. Only with a lot less guilt. But there was something wrong. I just couldn't figure out what.

I tried to assess Angela's condition, especially on our morning commute, when she pretended to be absorbed in the portfolio for her latest account. She seemed both contented and frustrated, if that makes sense. Had Tony not performed to her expectations? Had they done the deed but he hadn't rung her bell? Was it his failure or hers? After all, I tease Angela about being frigid, but for all I know she is, or might've become non-orgasmic after all those years of celibacy and near-celibacy.

Or what if they tried to have sex and Tony hadn't performed at all? It's almost unfathomable, but maybe Tony was impotent last night. I suppose he might've been too nervous, after all those years of waiting to be with Angela. He might've psyched himself out. If that's the case, that might explain his behavior, and it would mean he hadn't lied to me. They didn't sleep together, even if they intended to.

Angela is in a meeting with Jack right now. It's strange to think that Tony once was jealous of him, a few years ago. Oh, if only Tony had slept with Angela at the Plaza when he took her her notes. That would've saved us all a lot of aggravation.

Jack emerges from Angela's office, and I decide it's time for a little conference with Angela myself. I know her schedule is clear for the next hour. So I knock and then enter.

"Oh, hello, Mother."

"Hello, Dear." I close the door behind me. "How did it go with him?"

"Oh, he's going to handle the Guacacrunchies account."

"Well, good." I hadn't realized that Guacamunchies had branched out. I really should pay more attention to the minutes when I type them up. "But I meant with Tony last night."

She blushes, hesitates, and then bursts into tears. Oh, no, it's worse than I thought!

I come over and pat her hand. "There, there, tell Mummy all about it." It seems a time for one of my rare bursts of maternalism. And I do genuinely want her to be happy with Tony, no matter how much I tease them.

"Oh, Mother, Tony won't sleep with me!"

I pull up a chair. "Won't or can't?"

"Well, it's the same thing, isn't it?"

"Uh, no, Dear, it isn't."

"Well, he can't because of his scruples, so he won't."

"That lunkhead!" I exclaim.

"Mother, don't be too harsh. He just feels that it's too big a step to make before we're married."

"But he was hopping into Frankie's bed and those hotel beds and—"

"But not to sleep."

"Well, no, it sounds like he was always wide awake."

She looks at me and then, to my surprise, laughs. "No, Mother, I made that mistake myself. He's all right with premarital sex. He just doesn't want to sleep in the same bed."

I've never heard of such a thing, and believe me, no one is more familiar with men's quirks than I am. So she does her best to explain, although it sounds like she's puzzled by his weird attitude herself.

"So you did have sex with him?"

She nods, blushes, and smiles shyly.

"And it was good?"

"It was wonderful!" she murmurs.

"Kiddo, be happy with what you've got." It's a lot more than she usually gets.

"But I want everything!" She pouts.

I sigh. "So do you want my advice about how to get Tony to sleep with you?" I thought I'd been offering that for seven years, but it turns out that I was mistaken.

"Well, yes."

"Tranquilizers."  
"Mother," she scolds.

"OK, OK. Give me a moment." I think it over. "What if you wear him out physically, so he has no choice but to sleep?"

"I don't think that will work. He has incredible stamina."

"Oo, tell me more!"

"Mother."

"All right, all right. How about you get him away somewhere? In a hotel or some other place where you have to share a bed and he has to sleep next to you."

"I thought that happened when we shared beds before, but he never slept a wink. Well, except the first time."

" _Eye on Hartford_?"

"Right."

"You think we could get Sam to come home and fake a nightmare?"

"I don't think bed roulette would be the same when the children are teenagers."

"Good point." We might wind up with Sam in bed with Jonathan, which would create a whole other set of problems.

"Besides, I don't want to trick him into sleeping with me. I want him to want to be there."

"I've got it! Massage!"

"Massage?"

"Yes, give Tony a full-body massage to relax him."

"Oh, Mother, I don't know. That still seems a little less than honest."  
"What's dishonest about it? You're just going to give pleasure to the man you love. Well, hopefully additional pleasure."

"Yes, but—"

"Angela, you asked for my advice, and I've given you four options."

"Well, thank you. But that's not the whole problem. What if he does spend the night with me, asleep or not? What would we tell Jonathan?"

"What makes you think Jonathan wants you to tell him anything?"

She laughs. "Well, you have a point. But it would be embarrassing, at least the first time, if Jonathan caught Tony sneaking out of my room. Or me sneaking out of Tony's."

I sigh. "OK, this is my fifth and final plan..."


	6. Chapter 6

"You want me to house-sit for you?" I repeat in surprise.

"Yes, just for the weekend, while I'm out of town."  
"But, Grandma, you're just right across the driveway. If someone broke in, we'd all hear it over here."

"Not if they were quiet."  
"Like cat burglars?"  
"Sure. Also, I need someone to water my plants."

"Tony does that anyway."

"Look, Jonathan, I am offering you what few boys your age have: your very own bachelor apartment. Take it or leave it."  
"I'll take it, I'll take it! But wait a minute, what's Mom going to say? The woman moved a fridge in front of the door to prevent me going out with a girl a few months ago!"

"I think you'll find that your mother is more understanding than she was last Winter."

Well, I guess that's possible. She does seem more relaxed about everything since she finally got with Tony. I don't want to think about if that's because they've done it. Maybe they haven't yet. Maybe this is all a scheme to get me out of the house so they can finally be alone all night. If so, I don't want to know.

"OK, give me your keys."

Grandma smiles. "No wild parties."  
"Wild by your standards or by Mom's standards?"

"Let's say wild by Tony's standards."

"Then a belly-dancer is OK?"

She laughs and tosses me the key.

...

I'm getting so frustrated by all these interruptions. We never have any privacy. I know, it's what I get for living in the dorms. But it would be even worse living at home. Dad is so over-protective. He would definitely never let me be alone with Hank.

And, no, I'm not ready to go all the way with Hank, since we haven't been dating very long. But sometimes I want to sleep in his arms, cuddle all night. Hank is very sweet and I know he wouldn't pressure me for more. We've talked about how great it would be to fall asleep together, and wake up together. Yes, he wants sex some day, but he says he can wait. And he'd actually like the intimacy of sleep first.

I don't think any of my friends my age would understand. I'd talk to Angela about it, but she's been living with Dad for over seven years, and they've only shared a bed a couple times, and neither time was exactly what I'd call romantic.

Maybe I should call Mona. Not that she could relate to the wanting to sleep together but not sleep together thing, but she is usually sympathetic about my love life.

So I call and after some small talk, she says, "Sam, I'm very sorry but I've got to be going. I'm heading out of town and I just heard my date honk."

"You're dating a goose?"

"Well..."

"Never mind."  
"Dear, I'll call you when I get back Sunday night."  
"You're going to be gone all weekend?"

"Yes, Cape Cod."  
"Sounds nice."  
"It should be. Well, more naughty than nice."

I laugh. "Have fun, Mona."

"I always do."

It's not till I hang up that the wheels start turning. Her apartment is going to be sitting empty all weekend. Not that we'd need all weekend. And, yes, Dad would kill both me and Hank if he caught us, but maybe we can sneak in late enough tonight and sneak out early enough tomorrow morning. And I don't think Mona would object too strongly if she found out. Even if Hank and I slept together, she wouldn't object. And we won't. Just sleep. I'll make that clear to him.

...

As soon as Jonathan asked us if it's OK for him to stay over in Mona's apartment while she's away this weekend, I knew my fate was sealed. Maybe this is all something Mona cooked up, or maybe Angela is in on it, but why fight it? I may as well let myself fall asleep next to Angela. It'll make her happy and it won't kill me. Hell, I'll probably enjoy it.

I don't know if Jonathan knows. He's still kind of innocent in some ways, although not so innocent that he can't appreciate having an apartment to himself for a couple nights and days. (Well, he'll probably come back here for meals.)

"No guests," Angela said.

"Of course not, Mom!" He did his best to look shocked at the very idea.

Meanwhile I was doing my best not to make eye contact with Angela about whether she wants me as a guest. I think I know the answer to that. I guess as long as I'm downstairs in time to make breakfast for Jonathan, it'll all work out.

I'm wearing my pajamas just in case. And now I'm knocking on Angela's door, prepared to spend the whole night with her.

...

I'm at Grandma's for an hour before it occurs to me that it's not much fun having a bachelor apartment if you can't have anyone over, and the real benefit is that I could break curfew, and Mom and Tony would never know. So I call up my friend Steven, who gets permission to stay overnight with me. But actually, he knows a guy who can make fake IDs in half an hour, and we're going to see if we can get into a bar. I don't plan to drink much. Tony would probably spot it if I had a hangover tomorrow morning. We're just doing this to see if we can get away with it. And I get tired of being "the good kid" all the time.

...

"Would you like a massage, Tony?" I ask, when we're alone in my bedroom. He's wearing his pajamas, which I take as a sign that he's planning to spend the night. (If he were just here for sex, he wouldn't have changed out of his clothes. And I suppose he'll need something to put on when he leaves in the morning.) Mother's plan is working! Not that we've slept together yet in either sense tonight, but it looks like we will.

Seeing the way his muscle shirt showcases his forearms and his chest, I want to put my hands on him, and not just as foreplay. I could give him a massage after sex, but why not start the relaxation now?

"Yeah, that would be real nice. And then I'll give one to you."

I love his massages! He used to just do my feet and shoulders, trying not to be too sexual with me, although it was always sensual to me, even back when it was after the Ferguson-Schaefer wedding, where I met Geoffrey. Now that we're able to be sexual, I would love to feel his strong but sensitive hands everywhere on me.

"Lie down on your stomach," I tell him, wanting to start out that way. Then I'll have him roll over and I'll do the front. If he gets an erection, well, I suppose we could have sex and then I'll get a post-sex massage.

He lies down, his face resting on the pillow. I start kneading his shoulders and arms, and then down to his back. I even give his tight tush a couple rubs, which surprises and then delights him.

"Naughty girl!"

I giggle. But I continue down to his sturdy legs and on to his feet. He groans and sighs at the massage at first, but gradually gets quieter.

I'm just about to ask him to roll onto his back, when I hear a snore. Oh no! I've relaxed him too much! Too bad I'm not sleepy, because then we could really sleep together.

We both prefer to be intimate in soft lighting, as opposed to bright lights or the dark. I think I have enough light to read without straining my eyes. I'll let him nap for a chapter or two.

...

I find Mona's spare key under the mat. Hank looks amused. He told me he does feel funny about this, staying at someone's place without their knowledge or permission, but he wants to be alone with me, so he's going along with this.

I noticed a light in Angela's room but couldn't see one anywhere else in the main house. Dad might be at the library. I doubt he's in Angela's room. He used to be kind of a player, but I think he's waiting till marriage for Angela. Which, yeah, is weird considering they're engaged and living together, but whatever. Besides, they probably wouldn't want to do it with Jonathan around. Jonathan's light wasn't on either but maybe the dweeb actually has a date or is at a party tonight. It could happen. In which case, well, I guess Dad and Angela have the house to themselves. But it's none of my business really. I just want them to get married and stay married forever. When and if they have sex is minor in comparison.

As for me and Hank, well, this sharing a bed thing is a big step for us, me especially. I never did with anyone before, not even Matt, although we made out.

When we go in, I notice that Mona left the TV on. I shut it off.

"Are you sure she's not here?"

"Pretty sure."

"Well, you'd better go upstairs by yourself, just to be sure."

"OK." He has a point. If she ended up not going out of town, it would be slightly less awkward if I went into her bedroom than if Hank and I did. I kiss him and then climb the stairs. I look around but there's no sign of Mona, or worse one of her boyfriends. I yell down the stairs, "It's clear."

He joins me a moment later, and here I am, in a bordello-looking bedroom, alone with my boyfriend.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't know what Angela did to me last night, but she knocked me out, and not the way I expected. Maybe she hit some magic pressure point. All I know is one minute I was relaxing under her soft, sensitive hands, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up.

She's in a sexy nightie, reading a book. I realize we have the whole rest of the night, and tomorrow night, too, since Jonathan's at Mona's. We should have some daylight hours, too, since he'd probably rather hang out there than over here. He could stay up late watching TV or whatever.

"Hi, Sleepyhead." Angela sounds much more amused than annoyed.

Still, I say, "Sorry about that. I just shut my eyes and passed out."

She sets aside her book. "I'm sorry, too. I had no idea my massage was so powerful."

I'd suspect her of doing it deliberately, but then she would've slept next to me, like I know she wants. And she probably would've waited till after sex. Well, before is fine. I'm nice and rested now.

I kiss her and she eagerly kisses back. My hands caress the silk of her nightie, the silk of her skin. This'll be good. Make love, then sleep, and then make love again in the morning. Why have I been fighting this? I love her. She won't break my heart. I won't lose her.

Then the doorbell rings.

"What time is it?"

"About ten o'clock."

I sigh. "I guess it's important."

"Well, I'm sure the person at the door thinks it's important." I can see by her eyes that she doesn't want me to answer the door. But I have to. It's my job, as housekeeper, and as protector.

At least I'm not naked. I do have to, ahem, try to deflate my hopes before I can face anyone.

She smiles as if she realizes my dilemma. "You want me to get the door?"

"Um, yeah. I'll be right down. I mean."

She laughs and kisses my cheek. Then she goes and gets her robe, fastening it over her nightie.

And I try to think of much, much less sexy sights.

...

I stare at them, speechless. I never expected either of the children to be brought home by the police! Certainly not Jonathan.

"Mrs. Bower?"

"Yes, Officer." My voice is faint.

"Is this your son Jonathan?"

"Yes."

"Well, I just wanted to be sure, because that's not the name on the fake I.D. we confiscated."  
"Fake I.D.?"

"What's going on?" Tony is dashing down the stairs. Was it only a minute ago that I was trying not to smirk at his aroused condition? I'm glad he's here. I don't want to deal with this alone.

"Are you this boy's father?"

Tony hesitates. We all think of him as Jonathan's father, but he's not. Will he introduce himself as the housekeeper or Jonathan's pal or what?

"He's my mom's fiancé." That's the first Jonathan has spoken.

"Oh." The policeman sizes up Tony in his pajamas and me in my sleepwear. Then he says, "Ma'am, were you aware that your son wasn't home?"

The nerve of him! As if I'm some floozy who's too busy having fun in bed to know my child's whereabouts? I'm about to give him a piece of my mind. Usually, I'm the calm, rational, diplomatic one, but not when I'm pushed too far.

Tony probably senses this, because he puts his hand on my arm and calmly says, "He's supposed to be at his grandmother's."

"Oh, I see." And I can tell from the change in his facial expression that he's imagining a sweet little old lady, dozing over her knitting in a rocking chair while her teenage grandson slips out of her vine-covered cottage.

"Jonathan, where did you go?" Tony asks.

Jonathan mumbles something we can't catch.

"We found this boy and his friend using their fake I.D.s to try to get into a strip club."

"A strip club?!"

"Wow, that's more out there than the Boom-Boom Room!" Tony exclaims.

I shoot an annoyed glance at him, and then see that Jonathan and the policeman look confused.

"A strip club, Jonathan?"

"Mom, it's not like it sounds."

Then to my surprise, Tony says, "You're lucky, Jonathan. In Brooklyn, they would've thrown you in jail overnight, to teach you a lesson."

"Well, in view of the fact that it's the boy's first offence, and his young age..."

That makes it worse in my eyes. He's only 15! And, yes, I was 16 when I got a fake I.D. but I only went to a bar.

"So you're remanding him into our custody?" Tony says.

"Yes, Sir. But I think you two and his grandmother had better keep a better eye on him."

I bristle again, but Tony says, "Thank you, Officer, we will."

After the policeman leaves, I demand, "Jonathan, what were you thinking?"

"Uh, Angela, let me talk to him."

I hesitate, but he will be Jonathan's stepfather soon. And maybe this is more of a time for a "man-to-man" talk. I hope that Tony will make clear that we don't support Jonathan partaking, or trying to partake, in activities as demeaning to women as going to strip clubs. But there is that side of Tony, the side that had no problem with Jonathan snapping girls' bras. (And even snapped mine!) Well, I'll let him handle this tonight, and then I'll talk to Jonathan in the morning, when I've had a chance to calm down.

...

After Mom goes upstairs, Tony starts leading me out the back door.

"You want me to stay at Grandma's?"

"You promised her you would, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah." I'm not sure if I'm under house arrest (grounded with a Jacuzzi and cable) or if I'm off the hook. Maybe he just wants to be alone with Mom. I don't want to think about that.

"So a strip club, huh?" He sounds impressed. "I didn't try to sneak into one of those till I was 17."

"I thought it was just a regular bar." There was no "nude live girls" or anything like that on the sign.

"Uh huh." I don't know if he believes me. "Now do I have your word that you won't leave Mona's till Angela or I come and get you in the morning?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty tired anyway."  
"You've had a full night. Well, not as full a night as you hoped."  
"Full enough for me."  
He shakes his head. "Like mother, like son."

I don't want to know what that means.

He escorts me up the stairs to Grandma's doorstep. He watches me go in, then waves goodnight and heads down the stairs. I close the door and sigh.

I could watch some more TV but I may as well go upstairs. I'm not sure if I want to sleep in Grandma's bed, now that I think about it, but if it's too weird, I can come back down and sleep on the couch.

So I head upstairs and find that the bed is occupied. Not by Grandma, but by Sam and some guy! And they're making out! (Well, thank God they're not doing it. And thank God they're not naked!)

"What the—?"

"Jonathan? What are you doing here?"  
"Me? I'm apartment-sitting. What are you doing here?"

Now she looks embarrassed.

"And who are you?" I ask the guy.

He holds out his hand to shake. "Hank Thomopolis." (I'm guessing on the spelling.)

"He's my boyfriend," Sam says.

"Yeah, I kind of figured." I go ahead and shake his hand. It wouldn't be like Sam to bring some random guy home. Well, not home but to Grandma's.

"I didn't think anyone would be here. Mona said she was going out of town."  
"Oh. I guess she didn't mention I'd be around."  
"Well, no. But you weren't around when we got here. Where were you?"

Now I'm embarrassed. Well, I don't have to tell her the whole story. "I figured I could break curfew since Mom and Tony wouldn't know what time I got in."

"Uh huh." I can tell by the look in her eyes that she thinks she's got something on me and so I won't rat on her.

"They already know."  
"Oh."

"So unless you want them to know you're up here with a guy, you'd better clear out of here."

Hank puts his shirt back on (I think that's all he's got off besides his shoes), but Sam says, "Hold on. If we leave, you're going to sleep up here, right?"

"Well, I sure as heck am not going to sleep up here if you stay!"

"You're going to sleep here in the bed where your grandmother has had sex with countless men?"

I wish she wouldn't put it that way, but I guess I should be glad she's not being cruder.

"Hey, if it doesn't bother you," I say as bravely as I can, "why should it bother me?"  
"She's not my grandmother." Well, she has a point. "Don't you think you'd be much more comfortable on the couch?"

"Well, yeah," I reluctantly admit.

"How do we know she hasn't been with countless men on her couch?" We both glare at Hank. "Sorry."

Then Sam looks at me again. "Why don't you go back to your room?"  
"Why don't you go back to yours?"

She blushes. "Hank and I want some privacy."  
"Uh huh."

"Jonathan, please just go."  
"I can't. Mom and Tony would get suspicious if I came back to the main house."

"Oh, you're right." She sighs.

"Look, it's not like I want to be here while you guys are, you know."

"Hank and I are not sleeping together."

"Then why are you in pajamas?"

"Well, we're sleeping together, but not, you know, having, you know."  
"You were necking."

"Yeah, OK, we were necking. But we're not going to do anything more tonight."  
"Especially not with you sleeping on the couch," Hank says.

I guess we've reached a stalemate. "OK, but you guys can't stay here all weekend. Tony or Mom will come get me in the morning."

"What time?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. Breakfast time."

"It probably won't be that early," Hank says. "Not if they've got the house to themselves."  
I look at Sam and I know we both feel like we don't want to think about that. I mean, we're glad they finally got together, but it's been a long time since I asked why they didn't have S-E-X and she said, "Yeah, why don't ya?"

I sigh and say, "Goodnight."


	8. Chapter 8

What bliss to wake up in Tony's arms, and to see that he's been sleeping, too!

When he came back to bed last night, I was still fuming about Jonathan, as well as feeling that guilt I often have that I'm not a good mother. But Tony soothed me. He said Jonathan is at the age where he's very curious about girls, and that's natural, even if going to a strip club of course isn't appropriate. I suppose he's right, although I had to ask how he'd feel if Sam went to a club like Chippendale's. He looked very uncomfortable at the mere suggestion.

Obviously, neither of us felt amorous right then, but we did agree to cuddle. And we fell asleep like that. I felt that sense of peace I had before, and judging from the smile on his face this morning, he felt it, too.

He now yawns and tries to stretch, then realizes he's holding me. He grins and squeezes tighter. "Hey, you."  
"Hey, you."

He kisses my cheek. "It's nice to wake up like this."

I kiss his cheek. "Yes, it is. What changed your mind?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe Jonathan going to a strip club."

"Tony!"

"No, I mean, shouldn't we be modeling a healthy, loving relationship for him?"

"I don't think we've been that bad as role models."

"No, but now that we're being, well, sexually active, we need to let him see that it's a normal part of a commitment."

"Um, Tony." I'm not sure where he's going with this.

"I'm not saying we should make out in front of him or anything. But if we were his parents, we'd be sharing a bedroom, right?"

"Well, yes."  
"So let him know I'm sleeping in your bedroom. We can be as discreet as a married couple with kids. And he's 15. He can accept it."

"And Sam?"

He sighs. "Well, she'll probably tease us, like Mona will. But they'll be happy for us."

I nod. "That all makes sense. So is that everything that was bothering you?"

He hesitates and then quietly says, "I was afraid of losing you. If I held something back, it was like an insurance policy. But then I'm losing something else if I hold back."

"Oh, Tony. I understand. I still worry about losing you, but sleeping apart can't prevent that."  
"Yeah, I know. And I think we've already proven that we haven't 'lost each other as friends.' So if we can survive sex with each other, we can probably survive anything."

I laugh but I understand.

I kiss him, on the lips this time. His warm tongue darts between his warm lips and between mine. Soon we're French-kissing, our bodies pressed together. It's an easy transition to making love. He sheds his pajamas, I the slinky negligee. Our bodies unite, as our hearts and minds did long ago, although it took us a long time to see it.

As his well-rested and now seemingly tireless body moves against and in mine, sometimes over and sometimes under, I know that we won't always have leisurely mornings like this. We still have one child living at home and privacy will be at a premium, as it is for couples with children, as it has been for us all along. But other couples find time to be alone, and we will, too, with or without Mother's help.

...

I wait till Angela's hungry body seems satisfied, although I feel like I'm about to collapse by the time I let myself come. I'm wearing a condom again, but she promises to get some birth control soon. She's over 40 now and it's probably too late for us to have a baby safely, although maybe we'll adopt after Jonathan goes off to college in a couple years. I'll be out of college myself by then, have a steady job teaching somewhere. We loved raising Billy together, and it would be great to give a home to another needy child.

But right now, we're selfishly fulfilling our own needs, and it feels great. Sex after sleeping next to her, dreaming of her, is the best thing since veal scallopini.

Afterwards, I kind of want to fall asleep again, but I remember that "our son" is over at his grandmother's, waiting to be released from house arrest, or at least to have breakfast.

I ask, "Should we have Jonathan come back for the rest of the weekend?"

"Yes, if he hasn't sneaked out again."

"I think he's learned his lesson."

"OK. I'll make Omelets Angela while you go get him."

"Hasn't he been punished enough?"

She pinches me for that, but I happen to like the way she pinches me. I still manage to leave for a shower, while she goes into her bathroom. Maybe we'll start bathing and showering together, since sharing a bathroom isn't any more intimate than sharing a bedroom. But it can wait.

After I'm clean and dressed, I head over to Mona's.

...

It's wonderful to wake up in Hank's arms. I like literally sleeping with him. We might've slept together in the other sense if Jonathan hadn't shown up, but it's probably just as well. It's still too soon.

"Mmm, Sam, I'm going to miss this," Hank says when he wakes up.

"Me, too. But we'll find a chance someday to be alone on a regular basis."

"I hope so."

He looks at me and I know we're both wondering if Jonathan has left yet. We slept later than we meant to.

"OH, HI, TONY! GOOD MORNING, TONY!"

"Jonathan, why are you shouting?"

Annoying as my stepbrother-to-be can be, I'm grateful to him at the moment. If we didn't have him as an early warning system, Dad might come upstairs and catch me in bed with Hank. On the other hand, maybe he wouldn't have come over if Jonathan weren't here.

"AM I SHOUTING?"  
"YEAH, JUST A LITTLE."

"Oh, sorry. Is breakfast ready?"  
"Yeah, your mom's making Omelets Angela."  
"Oh boy."  
"Don't worry, I'll make some pancakes, too."  
"OK. Sounds great. Let's go."  
"Wait a minute, Jonathan. I just wanted to say if you want to come home for the rest of the weekend you can. Unless you want to stay here in your bachelor digs."

"No, I think I'd rather sleep in my room tonight."  
"OK, get your overnight bag and let's head over."  
"Oh, my bag."  
"Where is it?"

"Um, upstairs. Hold on."

"No, I'll get it for you."  
"You don't have to do that."  
"No, it's fine."  
"Tony, I beg you, don't go upstairs!"  
"Jonathan, did you break not just curfew but the 'no guests' rule?"  
"Um, technically no." True, he didn't invite us over.

And then I hear Dad thundering up the stairs. Hank meanwhile dives under the covers. I've told him about my father's Italian temper, especially in regard to my virtue.

"Samantha!" Dad gasps in shock. "What are you doing here with Jonathan?"

Under the circumstances, it seems best to yank the covers off Hank. "I'm not here with Jonathan. I'm here with my boyfriend."  
"Sir, it's not what it looks like. We only slept together." Sometimes Hank is not as helpful as he thinks.

Jonathan appears in the doorway behind Dad. "Literally slept together. I was chaperoning." Jonathan isn't very helpful either.

Then to my surprise, I hear Mona's cackle from downstairs.

...

My weekend date snored. I'd rather sleep alone. So I have him take me home the first morning. I arrive just in time for the best laugh I've had all year.

THE END


End file.
